


Ashes and Ashes

by TrufaxRex



Series: To the Sky [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Angst, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Minor Character Death, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrufaxRex/pseuds/TrufaxRex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is standing in a field. (Ashes and ashes and ashes)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ashes and Ashes

Dean is standing in some godforsaken field in the middle of nowhere and all he can see is fire.

He sees his Father, scooping him into his arms and dropping him inches from the ground, telling him to stay put and don’t move as he watches their Nest with his Mother and Brother inside be engulfed in flames. His Dad doesn’t spare him a second glance and flies back into the enflamed Nest, and Dean can already see where his huge gray wings have been singed and tarnished. His Father disappears and in that moment, Dean is sure he is going to lose them all – but all he hears is stay put, don’t move. And he can do nothing but listen, because his Father knows best and has never let him down.

Next thing he knows he sees his Father barreling toward the ground, a squirming bundle of toddler in his arms that he passes off to Dean without a single word. His Father turns instantly back toward the Nest and the tree, which is now also catching fire – and Dean knows, he knows his Mother his dead. His Dad has to know it to, but it doesn’t stop the man from flying back into the house in a desperate attempt to safe his Mate. He disappears for a final time, and then the tree falls.

Dean reacts on instincts, his juvenile wings are strong enough to carry himself, but hes never been allowed to fly with Sammy in his arms. Its pure determination that lifts him into the sky and away. Away from the smoke and the fire and the home he no longer has. For a while, he is in a daze, barely acknowledging the crying and coughing two year old in his arms – feeling numb to what just happened. Instinct leads him to the river and he settles by the bank. Its dark, and cool – but even this far away Dean smells smoke and his eyes burn.

He sits Sammy in lap and mechanically uses water from the river to wipe his squirming brother’s ash covered face and hands. The small wings on Sam’s back are gray instead of their normal brown, but he is lucky to only be singed. In his mind’s eye, Dean sees his Mother – black-blue wings spread wide, trying to keep to the fire away from her baby at all costs, inhaling smoke and feeling the flames searing her skin. Suddenly Dean his squeezing Sam in his arms and crying into the younger’s hair – crying like a little boy. Its been years since he cried, and the last time he did – his Mother was there to kiss it better.

But not more – Dean doesn’t have a Mother anymore. He thinks of his Father, who flew back in to be with his Mate and his heart chokes with sadness and anger. And theres nothing he can do – nothing he can say that can make any of this all right. He squeezes his eyes shut and wonders what he is supposed to say to Sammy. His two-year-old brother has just lost his parents and Dean doesn’t know how the hell he is going to get him to understand that.

Dean is standing in a goddamn field and its quiet and cold and Sam is gone.

Sam is gone.

And he wants to cry, he wants to scream and most of all he just wants to find his brother, but hes searched and searched and its been two days and he isn’t here. Dean can’t see him, but he can smell smoke and fire and that means Sam didn’t make it out. And if Sam didn’t make it out, Dean is alone.

Alone. Alone. Alone. 

Dean wants nothing more than to collapse, his wings are heavy and hurt and his muscles ache, but he still stands, thick grass brushing against his ankles because he knows if he lays down, if he crumples into himself and closes his eyes – he won’t be able to get back up.

Sammy. Sammy its okay. I’m here Sam. Sam? Sammy? Sam!

“Dean!”

Its not Sam and its so far beyond Dean’s comprehension that he doesn’t move a muscle. The flames are too bright and the cracking of branches too loud. His Father says stay put, don’t move. He hopes a tree branch falls and takes him to be with his Mother and Father, and Sam.

“Dean, we’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Crackling, and burning and bright and ashes and ashes and ashes.

“Castiel is worried sick, do you know how long you’ve been gone? Dean?”

Stay put.

“Dean, Dean? Say something kid. Hey, Dean – I’m right here. Dean?” 

Don’t move.

“Shit, Dean – what’ve you done to yourself?”

Sam. Sam. Sam’s wings are ash.

“Hold onto me, okay? I’m taking you home.”

He’s weightless and he sighs – is this it? Maybe it was all a dream, the life he could have had flashing before his eyes before he dies. He hopes Father and Mother went quickly – this is torture. Sam is gone and Dean is dying alone. There are wings, and arms and he is in the air and there are brown eyes and he thinks. Maybe this is an Angel. His Mother had always said that they had descended from Angels. Maybe he was being taken home. 

Home. Home meant Sam.

“Please,” He croaks, holding on his Angel. He wants Home. He wants, “Sam.”


End file.
